


L. S. Go Home

by saruma_aki



Series: Coldflash Week 2017 A [8]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Gore, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, I don't know where it came from, I'm Bad At Tagging, Leonard Loves Twix, Lots of Snacks, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mick Loves Black Licorice, Romance, but it's kinda minor, i wrote this after finding out what they did to leonard again, so i tried to make it more light-hearted than originally planned, super fluffy, time-travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saruma_aki/pseuds/saruma_aki
Summary: Whether his insides were inside or out of him, whether he was in a time ship or on hard solid ground in his present time, whether he was in Venice or Central City, he knew with utmost certainty that Twix's would forever and always be a holy food and one of his favorites.Oh, and Barry, too. How could he forget?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Day Eight of Coldflash Week 2017 in April.
> 
> Prompt: Time-Travel
> 
> Wow, this one turned out so fluffy and with really crap humor even though it was meant to be super angsty and stuff. Oh well.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Their latest mission was most definitely not Leonard’s idea of a good time as he sat on the medical bed, sewing up a cut on his arm after almost obsessively disinfecting it. A lifetime of getting wounds like this made him a bit cautious. Infections weren’t exactly fun.

“I want a nap,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his shirt firmly in between them, a harsh stream of air escaping him as he focused solely on finishing up before anyone else dared to come in. Last thing he wanted was to have to explain why ‘bitch’ was carved across his abdomen.

Lewis hadn’t been very imaginative in his insults.

Tying off the thread and cutting off the excess along with the needle, he wiped it down with some more alcohol before putting on the cream recommended by Gideon, smearing it over the stitched up gash before placing some gauze over it and taping it down, then wrapping it a few times with a bandage, making sure it was nice and smooth, clipping it into place.

“Captain Hunter is approaching the med room,” Gideon spoke and Leonard sighed, his thanks muffled as he adjusted his shirt so that his sleeve was back on, fixing the fabric around the bandages before shrugging back on his jacket that Gideon had managed to mend, thankfully.

“Mr. Snart,” Rip said as he walked in, looking as unaffected as always, at least physically, but Leonard could read the worry in the tension in the corners of his lips and the barest furrow of his brows and the way he had his hands shoved in his pockets, but his finger was twitching inside them, “we’re going to be performing another jump, so if you could get in your chair.”

He sighed, rolling his head and cracking his back before jumping lightly off the bed, walking past Hunter and towards the main area. “Where are we going?”

“Back to your time, Mr. Snart,” Rip responded, his stress seeming more evident as they entered the main room, everyone seated in their chairs already and Leonard moved to sag in the seat next to Mick’s lowering the belt. “It appears we need some assistance.”

“I could’ve told you that after the first two missions,” he muttered, closing his eyes, feeling the shift in the thrumming of the ship as Rip set the controls to launch them to another time, pursing his lips and waiting for it to be over.

 

 

 

Leonard elected to stay on the ship with Mick while Rip went out to get their supposed help. Of course, that just meant he called Lisa over and hung out with her for roughly fifteen minutes and introduced her to Gideon, let her say hi to Mick before she had to go, and then watched drive away on her motorcycle, a wry grin on his face, the words ‘train wreck’ lingering on his lips.

“You know, one of these days, he’ll learn not t’ le’ us stay here alone,” Mick grumbled as he lumbered back into the ship, about five bags packed to the brim with candy and snacks slung on his arms—make that six, Leonard amended mentally as he caught sight of the bag lying on top of the five. “I got y’ some,” Mick added as he let Leonard take three of the bags, both of them moving to the kitchenette area to set the bags on the table.

“And here I was doubting your love for me,” he snickered, rummaging through the bags to see what Mick had gotten.

They remained there for some time; eventually getting all of the stuff divided into three packed plastic bags each, both of them carrying them to their rooms on the ship, tucking them hidden away before each selecting a box of candy to eat and reconvening at the main room, flopping down into their chairs.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Mick,” Leonard coughed, making a face, “your love for black licorice is both disgusting and sickening—the fact that you can stomach it should be considered a super power.”

“And what about you and your Twix,” Mick argued, nudging Leonard’s leg with his foot, a look of amusement on his face as he watched Leonard try to get the taste of the black licorice off his taste buds.

“Don’t bring those into this. Twix is a holy food,” he muttered defensively, holding the bag protectively to his chest.

“That’s what you say whenever I ask if you like left or right Twix better.”

“They should’ve never split up,” Leonard muttered in his defense, unwrapping another one and popping it into his mouth, flicking the wrapper at Mick who proceeded to slap it away with a glare thrown at Leonard that was more amusement than actual anger. “Imagine how much their production would increase if they just joined forces.”

“Imagine how much people care,” Mick deadpanned in response and Leonard’s response to that was to frown sullenly, chewing on the remainder of the Twix.

“They should. Twix is a holy food.”

The amount of time it took to have both Leonard and Mick pointing their guns at the entrance was close to none, the barrels pointed at none other than their resident speedster.

“For that, you have earned yourself one,” Leonard responded, lowering his gun and shoving it back in its holster, tossing one over, returning to his seat, the bag settled in his lap. Mick grumbled something about delusional people, but sat down as well, growling when Barry quickly swiped a piece of licorice from Mick.

“I haven’t had black licorice in forever,” Barry moaned, flopping into one of the chairs. Leonard’s lip curled and glared at Mick who sent him a smug look.

“You guys are disgusting,” he grumbled, tucking the bag of Twix securely against his side. “What are you doing here anyway, Scarlet?”

Barry shrugged, running his tongue along his teeth before baring them at Leonard, smiling when he got a thumb up in return to let him know he had gotten off all the black. “I heard you guys might be in need of some help, I was in the area, thought I’d drop in.”

“You raced our dear captain back here, didn’t you?”

He watched Barry duck his head, rubbing the back of it in embarrassment. “Should I not have?”

“No, good for you; that was well done. I might even say I’m proud.”

Barry looked at him, his awkward smile slipping into something brighter.

“Fair warning, though, the food of the future is sugar free,” Mick rumbled from where he was slouched, still chewing on a piece of his candy of choice. God, Leonard would never get over that. He was fairly certain black licorice was as disgusting as Lewis, though Lewis was obviously a bit more so.

“I’ll be right back with groceries,” was Barry’s response and they watched him go, blinking slowly before shrugging and returning to their candy.

 

 

 

Leonard couldn’t decide whether he did or did not like having Barry around. The male was always going about in his suit whenever he was out of his room, his voice resonating every time he talked, distorted in a way that was distinctly not Barry, his features blurred.

He, personally, thought the Flash’s identity was pretty poorly kept—at least in his very astute opinion it was poorly kept. Leonard knew if he had bothered to spend more time on it, he would’ve been able to draw the connections and pinpoint the person to be Barry Allen, but he hadn’t wanted to, had taken the easy route.

It helped, though, that Gideon also kept his identity a secret and simply referred to him as the Flash.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Leonard asked, thanking Gideon mentally again for having had the foresight to warn him beforehand that Barry was in his quarters. The door slid quickly shut behind him, probably to preserve Barry’s identity, seeing as he was out of the suit and standing awkwardly in just sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Barry shifted in mild discomfort, biting his bottom lip. “I, uh, kind of wanted to be able to talk to someone without having to do the whole ‘keep who I am a secret’ thing,” Barry mumbled. “And you are practically the only person here that knows who I am and that won’t try and kill me on sight—most likely because you know I can evade it.” Barry gave a small grin at the last bit, carding his fingers through his hair.

Leonard sighed, but motioned for Barry to go ahead and sit on the bed, setting the cold gun to the side, heading to the closet to pull out a loaf of Brioche bread. Amazing, the multipurpose ability of the cold gun, Leonard had thought to himself when he had frozen a shirt solid and placed the bread on it to keep it cool and to extend its life. Moving back over to the bed, he hopped on, settling with his back leaning against the wall, opening up the bag and pulling out a slice, offering some to Barry who accepted with a small smile.

Leonard had never been much of a conversationalist. He valued communication, but he couldn’t say he felt like doing it very often. Most of the time he just wanted to sleep or do his exercises or eat—or all of the above, which would be an ideal day for him, but were far and few between.

“Have any of these plans actually worked?” Barry asked after a bit, tearing off of piece of the slice of bread and chewing on it thoughtfully.

“No,” Leonard responded once he had swallowed, feeling the muscle in his jaw twitch. It was getting seriously irritating that nothing ever seemed to go to plan. “Rip never has enough information,” he explained, though it felt more like he was explaining it to himself. It was always because Rip didn’t have enough information, or didn’t share enough information, or shared all the wrong parts of the information. And everyone followed along with faulty plans, but they didn’t click, didn’t listen well enough, were too caught up in their personal shit to do what was needed of them.

“Why does he think adding me will help?”

“Probably hoping you can just be fast enough to kill him.”

“Even though Kendra is the one that has to stab him with the pointy thing,” Barry asked dubiously and Leonard could only shrug, chewing on the last of his slice of bread.

“There’s a reason we haven’t succeeded.”

 

 

 

It became a thing, Barry showing up in his room, typically with some form of food. Today it was with two boxes of Pebbles cereals, both chocolate and fruity. It was a welcome snack after his rye bread sandwich earlier consisting of spinach, mayonnaise, tomatoes, and provolone cheese, and side of miso soup because he had been craving something warm and miso soup was good despite what anyone said—Mick could suck it.

Their latest attempt had ended up as a bust and Mick was sleeping off the worst of his bruises—bruised pride included. Everyone was relatively okay, although Stein had ended up with a broken finger Gideon mended and Jax ended up with a nice black eye. Then there was Sara who had a scraped face and a nice bruise forming on the underside of her jaw. Kendra would probably be feeling pretty sore in her abdomen for a few days and Rip would probably have to sleep off his broken nose that Gideon had mended.

Technology was great sometimes, although he didn’t understand why the hell it couldn’t seal up cuts and make bruises disappear. That was what most of them needed half of the time.

Barry had already healed from his wounds, although Leonard imagined that he was still feeling it, going by the way he shifted gingerly on the bed like he was afraid of aggravating his ribs.

Leonard sighed, crossing his legs Indian style, pouring himself a bowl of some fruity pebbles with a soft hum, not really feeling the pain of his wounds. He hadn’t gotten hurt much—or at least he was pretty sure he hadn’t. He remembered getting kicked in the hip, but he also remembered removing the leg that had dared touch him, so he didn’t really think the damage was pretty extensive. Gideon had said he was fine and Leonard elected to trust her judgment.

Barry had designed her after all, so she probably wouldn’t lie.

Although now she had some of Len’s influence on her because when he had asked she had responded with, “you are cool, Mr. Snart”. He couldn’t have erased the fond smile that appeared on his lips if he tried. Gideon had to be one of his greatest friends on the ship and Leonard would be sad to see her go once they succeeded— _if_ they succeeded.

“Is this how it usually is?” Barry muttered, scooping a mouthful of fruity Pebbles into his mouth, both of them having come to the silent agreement to leave the chocolate Pebbles for later.

“Typically,” he responded, rolling his head from side to side to get rid of the tension building in his muscles, but he could feel the soft pulse of a headache at his temples.

“Why don’t you guys know more before you head in?”

“Rip’s desperate,” is his response. And it bothered him a bit that he understood Rip’s desperation so well. He had felt it while living with Lewis, knew that it sucked away all reason and logic from your mind when it was people you cared about on the line, when you were in such a frenzy mentally to do anything you could to save them, to help them, to protect them, that you didn’t stop to consider the best course of action. “He doesn’t think it all the way through.”

“It could cost you guys your lives.”

“That’s why he chose us,” Leonard responded, shoving a handful of cereal in his mouth, holding up a hand for Barry to wait for a moment when he saw the quizzical look on his face. Swallowing, he made sure his mouth was well and truly empty before speaking. “We’re expendable.”

“That’s not true,” Barry argued vehemently, leaning forward a bit, eyes alight with a fire that sent a tingle of warmth down Leonard’s spine, but he ignored the feeling to level Barry with a flat look.

“Our deaths might mean something to people in our lives, but we’re not important enough to the world that our dying will change anything.” Leonard watched the words settle into the male’s head, watched the fight drain out of him. It was a bit saddening to know that it was his words that had made Barry deflate like he had, but it was the truth. They were expendable, all of them—except for Barry. He was the one that had to survive all of this.

“That sucks.”

Leonard shrugged. “When you know it to begin with, it sucks a little less.”

 

 

 

Leonard was fairly certain he would feel some form of elation later, but he guessed that would probably be when he didn’t have a fist curled around his insides, tugging them as the man fell back and he moved with him, trying to keep them inside somehow.

Kendra kept the knife firmly embedded in Savage’s heart, supporting his know prone body up as Leonard gritted his teeth, black spots dancing in his vision as he tried to tug out Savage’s hand from inside him, from where it was wrapped tight around his intestines. He tried not to think about how the man was trying to get at his spine from his front as he uncurled the fingers one by one, unable to stop the high whines that escaped him along with the low grunts, hissing as the hand slipped loose, a torrent of red following after it.

He honestly wasn’t quite sure how he was still conscious.

He heard Kendra tell Barry to stop the vortex he was spinning around them, saw the blur of red and lightning slow and dissipate. He pressed his hand to his abdomen, let out a broken sound as the leather of his gloves met the open wound, pressing against delicate skin that shouldn’t be as exposed as it was to the air, the fabric of his shirt just as caught up in the mess of his innards as the hand had been.

“Snart,” Kendra called, but her voice was distant.

Leonard smirked mentally. Of course this was where his consciousness would start to slip away.

He could feel himself swaying and he pushed against the ground with his foot, aiming to fall backwards. Backwards would be smarter—it’d keep more blood inside him. Backwards was good.

He felt arms encase him, heard a voice in his ear telling him ‘hold on’ and ‘don’t you dare die’ and ‘it’ll be okay, alright—we can fix this and you’ll be just fine’.

He didn’t doubt it. He had no intention of dying.

He still had a whole other bag of Twix he hadn’t opened yet.

 

 

 

“You are absolutely terrible,” Barry hissed and Leonard felt his lips tug up into a grin, letting his eyes flutter open.

“Are my insides inside again?”

“Yes,” Barry grumbled and he finally turned his head to see the male standing next to his bed, looking equal parts put out and relieved, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that conveyed his concern and his anger. “What kind of plan was that?” he finally exploded, red flushing high on his cheeks. Leonard felt his lips curl into an amused smirk, watching as Barry slowly lost his calm. “Your plan was to get your insides torn out? Who the fuck does that? That’s not a plan! That’s dangerous! I can’t believe that was what you came up with. When you told me that I’d probably have to run you back to the ship, I did not think it meant that you would let a madman fist you!”

“I let him fist me?” Leonard repeated dubiously, holding back his mirth.

“Yes!” Barry’s hands flew into the air, raking through his hair before he paused, face flushing red even more. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he hissed, pointing a finger accusingly at Leonard while Leonard simply smirked at him, trying not to laugh—not yet, at least.

“In my defense,” he began slowly, shifting to sit up, “the original plan was to have Kendra actually stab him _through_ me.”

“That’s even worse! You were going to let her stab you? That could’ve also killed you. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Barry,” he cut in before the male could continue on his tirade, doing a mental victory dance at successfully managing to sit up and getting his muscles to cooperate, “I have a bag of Twix I’ve been saving until we actually succeeded and I _really_ wanted to eat them—what was I supposed to do?”

Barry stared at him.

He blinked. And then he blinked again—and then once more for good measure.

“You let someone try to tear out your guts because you wanted to eat a candy?”

“I wanted to go home,” Leonard amended. “They’re at my apartment.”

There was something that softened in Barry’s expression and Leonard felt whatever tension had gathered in his muscles leave, his shoulders sagging slightly. He knew Barry had heard the actual weight behind him words, had heard what he was feeling in the soft curl of the words.

He watched Barry edge closer, watched him sit down on the bed with him, and then watched as Barry shifted closer before his arms were wrapping around Leonard, pulling him close and burying his face in Leonard’s neck, fingers of one hand clutching at Leonard’s nape, the others curled in the back of the new shirt he guessed someone helped him into. He sincerely hoped it was Mick—he was pretty sure it was Mick. He would’ve kicked out everyone else.

“I’m really glad you’re alright.”

He smiled softly, letting his own arm wrap around Barry to return the hug. “If I was going to die, I would’ve said good-bye,” he soothed, letting his cheek rest on the top of Barry’s head for a moment before pulling away.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Barry muttered, his eyes shining with tears, though thankfully none had fallen. That was good, Leonard figured. There was nothing to cry about; he was fine.

“I don’t plan to. Fisting really isn’t something I’m into.”

Barry laughed wetly, wiping at his eyes. “Good,” he muttered, leaning closer to let their lips brush, “neither am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to find me on instagram ( @saruma_aki )!
> 
> (who got the reference in the title? XD it's such a bad reference--i'm super bad at that; i'm sorry, but it fit)
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments below!


End file.
